


Only One of us is a Ghost

by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth



Category: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: National Anthem (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Mike Milligram is an awkward dork, faint descriptions of that, this one guy’s dead, ummm - Freeform, unreality maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth/pseuds/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth
Summary: Mike Milligram has a little chat with a dead guy and may or may not unlock a memory from his past
Relationships: Mike Milligram & Ven, Mike Milligram & the leader of Books On Tape did he have a name? I don’t think so <3
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	Only One of us is a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! Once again, canon Literally Does Not Exist yet <3

“Milli-grammm... you sonofabitch,” the corpse beside you says, and by God, you remember his voice. Not his name, or his face, if he ever had one before this necrotized mess, but you remember him talking to you, addressing you,

“Michael.”

“Not my— not my name.” In your mind, you hear yourself reply, and that’s strange as fucking fuck, Michael’s been your name as long as you’ve had a name. 

“Isn’t it?”

“Mike. Next time you, uh, call me Michael, you answer to my raygun.”

“Charming.”

“I’m known for my bedsi— uh, carside manner.” If memory zombie guy sounds like a pretentious fucking asshole prick, memory-you sounds like a tiny little kid playing tough. “I’m Mike Milligram. Nothing else.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“You don’t seem like a complete and utter arrogant shitstain, and yet.”

“Little Michael Milligram. Try a tad less hard next time, hm?” 

You’re too caught up in your head, thinking about the memory-guy to pay much attention to the actual-guy in the seat right beside you, and after a while, he just keels over all lifeless and dead, dripping little bits of brain and drool onto the floor. You don’t notice, don’t feel the gray matter slowly soaking into your left shoe, as past-you (hallucination-you?) makes a sound of helpless fucking indignation, and the memory ends, leaving you dazed. You don’t hear the bus driver cuss you out for tracking gross shit in on your shoes, fucking up his pristine bus floor. You stumble home. Maybe you should look into those pretty white pills from the TV.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing from Milligram’s point of view, the guy uses thirty fucking words when two would suffice, tryna sound cooler than he thinks he is
> 
> Leave a comment below and come find me on tumblr @wishiwasthemoon-tonight!!!!!


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